A Taste Of Home
by Vampire Louis
Summary: Who knew a flat tire could lead to this?


**Title**: A Taste of Home  
**Author**: Antiquitydreams  
**Beta**: Blackfruitbat  
**Rating**: G for a kiss  
**Genre and/or Pairing**: Castiel/Dean  
**Spoilers**: None really but this takes place sometime ambiguously in early season 5 probably before Episode 16.  
**Disclaimer**: I own nothing! I just wanted to play with them for a little while.  
**Summary**: For CloudJenn's Twitfic exchange. Prompt: "Something short and schmoopy where Dean teaches Castiel how to do something that's necessary for Sam and himself. Maybe how to sew, change a tire, make a soup or use google." I decided Dean teaching Cas how to change a tire in the rain was adequate enough for schmoop to ensue.

* * *

Rain was pouring like it always did in the east: thick and relentless with no sign of relief in sight. Streets flooded, gutters clogged, and storm drains overflowed, spilling pools of water over the edges of houses to the already drenched yards below. No one was out in this kind of weather. Or, at least, no one wanted to be out in this kind of weather.

Dean, among the unfortunate few who road the bus and didn't read the weather report this morning, was stranded in the downpour. His baby blew a tire several miles outside of town and now he was standing in aforementioned rain with a jack, a tire iron, and a look of determination squared on features. It helped that Cas was kneeling in the mud inspecting the blow out which was quite obviously a blow out and not in any need of inspection. It was just that seeing the angel getting just as soaked as the rest of humanity felt somewhat like justice in his mind. Never mind how much "angel" was left in said angel these days. Still, the concept was there and it mollified the situation which would have been otherwise shitty beyond words.

"You need a jack to lift the car."

"Do you have his number?"

Thank god it was warm weather or else this would have been a whole lot more aggravating. As it stood, the rain was a blessed relief from the relentless late summer heat and felt delightfully cool against bare and clothes-soaked skin.

"Here." The triangular metal prop was unceremoniously shoved into Cas' hands the moment Dean physically gave up on staying clean by kneeling in the mud next to his traveling companion.

"What's this?"

"A jack. He doesn't carry a cell phone but he works for free so I can't complain." The Winchester brother shifted to get closer to the ground and point to a spot under the car. "Place it there and pump the handle until it's snug. Don't over do it because we don't want to lift the car up yet."

Dean could remember the days when he was younger and adamantly forcing Sammy into learning how to change a tire. It was a good skill to have and it turned out to be incredibly usefully not even a full year down the road when they were stranded with no cell phone, no passing cars, and one busted arm for all of Dean's luck. A few months after his arm healed and they settled in a new town, the oldest also decided that teaching girls how to change a tire was proportionately a good idea... if only because it was kind of like a first and second date all rolled into one. Not because it was romantic or any of that nonsense, mind you, but because it put him several points in favor towards getting down their pants.

Cas was neither his brother or a girl but he needed to know this skill all the same and the comparative memories were conflicting. More so when he slid down next to Dean to put the jack up and that distinct scent of homemade pie filled his senses. Angels, as it turned out, tended to smell like whatever it was your inner child longed for. Sam, late one night, had offhandedly commented that Cas smelt like old books and car freshener. But to Dean, Cas smelt of apple pie a la mode. And home. God did he smell like home.

"Now what?"

The human blinked several times and noted the proximity between them was distinctly lacking.

"Tire iron." He inhaled quickly and removed himself from the overwhelming sense memories flooding his perception.

The metal cross bar found its way into Castiel's hands while Dean took the time to further straighten himself upright and watch the angel from a safer location of another foot away. This was exactly why he had to have that "talk" about personal space with Cas. Outside of the obvious 'I'm not like that' complaint, was the fact that proximity to Castiel made Dean long for things he wasn't allowed to have anymore. Things like home and mom and peanut butter sandwiches with the crust cut off. Things just past his ability to grasp and far beyond his capacity to make real again. Things that even if they were still available, he would deny himself the right to have because his life would never facilitate them now. Being close to Cas was a daunting and somewhat cruel reminder of all that he had lost and would never have again.

"You put it here like this." He took the angel's hands ,which were gripping the tire iron, and redirected them into the proper position, effectively ruining the point of distancing himself by that additional foot. Apparently somewhere along the line, Dean had fallen into that familiar routine he had used with all the girls and Lord only knew how THAT had happened. More so when he was actively trying to keep his distance from this… from his... friend. How awkward that the adjective didn't quit fit the situation anymore.

"And you turn it to the left." He pulled sharply with his hands still over Cas' and the angel toppled into his personal space, the sharp scent of soap and cinnamon apples rushing over him in a title wave of warm ease that distinctly felt like sunshine.

He should have moved away. He should have let go. He should have done a lot of things. But what he did instead was drift in closer to place the tire iron on the next bolt over and grant himself better access to all those things he wasn't allowed to have.

Cas' exposed neck was in his line of view and he could see the drops of rain trickle down the side like a caress that was making Dean uncomfortable to follow. That trench coat had been abandoned hours ago, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, and the first two buttons of his stuffy dress shirt popped open because Dean complained about heat exhaustion just from looking at Cas in that getup. The angel complied because that's what Cas tended to do when Dean made a demand, or a request, or a complaint, or an offhanded comment, or...

Okay. Dean was a bad influence on Castiel and he knew it.

"Now use the jack to lift the car up." He crossed over his own body line and into Cas' so he could pump the arm of the jack. And, really, he couldn't stop himself. This was exactly the same bad habit he had been mechanically dishing out to girls since high school because it was the easiest way he knew how to teach someone the art of changing a tire. Consequently, it was also the most awkward routine to give to anyone who wasn't female.

"And now that the car is up, remove the lug nuts and the wheel." Their fingers bumped as they reached for the same lug nut and the human really couldn't suppress the ridiculous notions crashing down on top of him. It was like he was caught up in some kind of cliché romantic comedy that he absolutely abhorred. You know, the kind that Sam cried over when he was certain no one was looking?

Frowning a little at the thought of starring in one of Samantha's favorite shows, Dean hurried through explaining the rest of what had to be done for the car. It wasn't much, just simply removing the old and placing on the new, then putting things back where they belonged. Something Cas proved incredibly adept at doing and Dean said as much.

"It's easier than fixing a human body." He remarked casually with a grin, patting Dean's shoulder in the same place he had left his mark.

It struck the oldest Winchester as odd because, in the endless rain that pressed dark bangs into impossibly blue eyes and made the spots of grease and mud run down his face, Cas looked incredibly human. One of them, complete with flaws and frailty and...

Dean found himself reaching out to smudge a spot of black across the angel's cheek bone, smearing it into a bigger mess then what had been there before. A part of him (and it grew with each passing day) wanted this. Wanted to dirty Cas up, sully his name, pull down his halo and tug him off his cloud. He wanted that angel to be human, on level with the rest of them so when he fucked things up (and he undoubtedly would), the fall wouldn't be so monumental. Not that it hadn't been spectacular already, but the thoughts that were running ramped through his mind at this very moment would make it so much worse.

Dean's thumb dragged the black stain towards Cas' ear while the remaining fingers traced their way to the side of his neck. They stopped when his hand was warmly pressed against the side of a cooling face. This earned him a piercing stare that burned with questions not yet asked. Most of which he had no answers for.

"Dean.." There was a trace of humanity in his tone that hadn't been there when they'd first met. It suited him, this halfway stage between man and angel. He was more real than he had been before but still whimsical enough that he was something special. Something untouched and mostly pure. Something that still belonged to Dean. Because no matter how it was phrased, the obvious fact remained that God resurrected Castiel for Dean. Cas was a gift to Dean, from God.

He didn't like the holy dead beat dad any better then before, but this helped. A little. Awkward as it may be.

"Dean." The voice resonated a little deeper and the scent of apples grew a little fainter. Faint enough that it pulled Dean in, beckoned him to follow, and he complied.

The humanization of Cas came to its precipice the moment Dean dared to find out what rain tasted like on an angel's lips.

And if anyone asked, it tasted like home.

Fin


End file.
